Knowing They Wouldn’t Come
by Queen Hotaru
Summary: HEY! I'm back! The title of this fic is a little misleading, but it's a side-story to one of my other CSI fics. Read it if my summary has peeked your interest, I love getting feedback!


Knowing They Wouldn't Come

by Queen Hotaru

  
  


Authors Note:

Well, welcome me back! This is the first time I've posted anything in over a year! Ask me why that is and the answer is simple: Writer's Block! If anyone wants to help me with my CSI or Sherlock Holmes stories (meaning as giving me their comments on it, and any ideas they think could be changed, or things that could be changed) please let me know, whether it be via e-mail, review or IMing me at my AIM: StarChic512.

I'm back and congratulate me, because I've just taken my 2nd Regents exam, and I don't take any more till next year. so now Finals and Regents exams are done and I'm going on an archeological dig in New Jersey this summer (one month, living at home, not in Jersey). Well, enjoy!!!!

Story Note:

No, I wasn't in any sort of a depressed mood when I wrote this, I'm not depressed now either, I've been thinking of ways to re-write one of my stories, but I won't tell you which, it may give away the story topic (of course the section it's under does that too). So, I hope you enjoy the story, yes I admit it does have some sad tones to it, but, I was also thinking that this could possibly be the start of another 'character-kidnaping' stories, maybe rewriting my other one.

Enjoy!

-Abby ^_^

~~~~~~~~

  
  


It had been a long day.

  
  


First she had to go to school. That hadn't been fun. 

  
  


The kids who wished only for her total humiliation or destruction (depending on how you defined the word) all knew that this day every year was the best time to get to her. She would be in a slight daze all day. Her circle of friends all knew why this was and gave her their support.

  
  


Then there was the waiting period. She'd get a lift with Sidney's dad to the lab and see what needed to be done, what she could help out with. With her in a daze like she was, she would be sent, by Greg, to the break room to rest. Then it would be her. Just her, by herself, for about an hour, two at the most, reading, doodling, whatever, until her dad came in and handed out assignments. At that time she'd snap out of the daze and be fully attentive and alert.

  
  


On this day every year she'd be sent out into the field with her dad, dad by adoption, uncle by genetics. The fieldwork got her mind off of things, but then there was that point after the return to the lab that she'd be by herself in the break room again and she'd sit on the couch thinking.

  
  


She didn't remember.

  
  


How could she?

  
  


She knew that today was the day, but she didn't understand why she was in a daze every time. All she knew were the stories, the stories told to her by her dad. She didn't remember them.

  
  


No matter how hard she tried she couldn't.... well maybe a little.

  
  


This year would be different. She couldn't be held back by their death date anymore. Being somber on this day was fine, but she needed to keep herself together and alert on this day every year. It was then that she realized she'd finally gotten over it. She hadn't known before this point that she had needed to get over it, but now she knew she had succeeded in that which she didn't know she needed to.

  
  


Her dad walked into the break room, announcing they should get going. She grabbed her backpack and they walked to the midnight blue Tahoe. They drove for a while before reaching their destination, a small store at the mall.

  
  


They'd get out, make a purchase and then continue driving.

  
  


Continuing for twenty minutes before stopping again and getting out.

  
  


Taking the purchase with them they walk the stone-lined path, being careful where they step, so as not to show any disrespect.

  
  


They reach their destination and lay their purchases on the stones, a pink carnation, peach-colored rose, a red rose and a blue carnation. Then just look at the stones with somber expressions etched on their faces.

  
  


They walked back down the path lined with stones and got back into their midnight blue vehicle. As they pulled away, she finally spoke.

  
  


"I don't remember them," she said.

  
  


"Really?" he asked.

  
  


"Not really," she responded. "There are times, fractions of memories that still are in here, they're in some of them, but not enough to really remember. I used to search my mind for memories, a the same time, knowing they wouldn't come. " She paused. " I miss them."

  
  


"I do too," he sighed.

  
  


There was a long silence as they arrived home and pulled into the driveway of their townhouse and walked inside.

  
  


"You know," she said, "now that I think about it, I do know a lot about them. Just not what they wer-"

  
  


He didn't hear any more of what she said, although he strained to. She noted the look of discomfort on his face and switched to ASL, saying and signing at the same time.

  
  


Just not what they were like.

  
  


"-ke." his hearing came back into focus and he heard the last part of her word.

  
  


"I know it's not the same, Tara, but still-"

  
  


"Dad, I'm not upset. I've got the best sources of information on them in you and Grandma, so I'm set. I realized today that I just needed to stop allowing today to make me unable to function."

  
  


"But you are allowed to grieve," her father interjected. "Both of us are human, despite what Greg, Nick and Warrick say we're not robots."

  
  


"I know, but, for some reason, I haven't felt the need to be isolated since I realized this earlier tonight," she paused. "I guess I just needed to realize that, maybe it was some kind of closure."

  
  


They were now sitting on the couch near the kitchen.

  
  


Tara looked over at the kitchen, specifically the refrigerator and gave a small smile

  
  


"I don't know about you, but I'm getting hungry."

  
  


Her father looked over and shook his head chuckling a bit. He then reached over and hugged her. She was confused for a second, then she hugged him back.

  
  


"I love you, Tara. I know that they'd be proud," he said.

  
  


She pulled from the hug and looked back at him. "That sounded very cliche," she laughed

  
  


"Perhaps," her father responded, "but true. Come on, lets find something to eat."

  
  


Tara headed towards the refrigerator and opened it. After looking in, she closed the door and turned around.

  
  


"Nothing but experiments in there," she said, "how about pizza instead?"

  
  


Dinner had been finished and cleaned up from a while ago. It had been a while since Tara had gone upstairs and gotten ready for bed. She always came downstairs before she actually went to sleep, but the time she usually went to sleep had been fifteen minutes ago. He stood up from the couch, leaving his documentary on the history of forensic science behind, and walked to her room. The door was ajar and the lights were still on.

  
  


He knocked but received no response. He called her name, still no response. Slowly he pushed the door open a bit more.

  
  


Tara, in her pyjamas (shorts and a tank top) was laying on her bed in an odd position.

  
  


Walking over to the bed, he smiled at what he saw. Near her hand (it had obviously been held in it before her grip loosened) was a photograph of Tara, him, her parents, and grandmother.

  
  


He took the picture and placed it on her night table. Then he picked her up and moved her so that her head was on her pillow. He then turned and walked to the door.

  
  


As he turned out the light he thought, 'Lucy, Matt, you guys would be so proud of her.'

  
  


And with a last look at his adopted daughter, Gil Grissom turned out the light and shut the door.


End file.
